Who I Want To Be
by mkhockeygurl8
Summary: AU Parentlock set after the Reichenbach Fall. When Sherlock comes back from the "dead" he knows that life would have gone on without him, but what he didn't realize was that everything would change. Everyone has moved on and the consequence of what he did threatens to rock his world upside down. Will his lie be exposed? Can Molly forgive him?
1. I'm Surprised You Haven't Deduced This

**Hi is my first fanfic ever, so let me know what you think. ;) Shout out to Writingwife83 thanks for the advice and help! ****Please do review I would love feedback on what's good/not good, stuff like that, just keep your reviews polite please and thanks! I hope you enjoy it and I will be updating regularly. I do not own most of the characters they are Conan Doyle and Mofftis' amazing creations! :D Btw translation at the end for the french. ;)**

* * *

**Intro**

Molly had always trusted Sherlock. But as she lay with the cold damp earth suffocating her in its depths, she started to doubt, to give up hope. Would he ever come? Could he find her before it was too late? Would she make it out alive? She gasps for air, willing the oxygen to flow to the life inside her. Overcome by an unconscious oblivion she whispers, "I'm sorry."

**Chapter 1: I'm Surprised You Haven't Deduced This**

The full moon casts its light over a constellation mobile embellishing the wall with shadows of planets and stars. A young mother croons softly to her baby. The baby fusses as it tries to fight the sleep that's inevitable, but eventually it drifts away. The mother smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the baby's head and places it gently into the crib. She sighs as she looks down at the perfection before her. She could have never wished for anything better. Tears threaten to fall as she thinks, 'Blast those stupid hormones.' She turns to leave the room and glances wistfully at the constellations spinning in lazy circles above the crib. The past is the past, she can't dwell on it, and her focus must be on the future.

* * *

The fluorescent lights cast a pale glow on the nearly empty hallway. Sherlock walked down it with a sense of purpose and perhaps even excitement. As he strides by offices, heads poked out with curiosity and amazement. Whispering began but he paid them no heed as he continued toward his goal.

Sherlock pushed through the doors of the morgue and scanned the room. It appeared empty so he grabbed a stool and turned a microscope on. He created several slides at home but with John not living at the flat anymore, 221B was just so boring. Analyzing the slides in the morgue was more exciting for some reason.

Molly heard the doors open but paid no mind. Lestrade had phoned earlier and mentioned that they would be bringing in victims of a double murder. She finished her report on the John Doe #2 and grabbed her cuppa, 'Ugh it's cold again. Well time for a new one.' Molly got up and checked her mobile for any new messages as she walked into main area of the morgue. She was almost through the doors when she realized she wasn't alone. She paused and turned her head. Her face registered shock, and joy, and so many emotions that not even Sherlock could say how she was feeling.

Sherlock didn't even turn as he said, "I see you've started using highlights since I last saw you. Don't, it makes you look drab."

Molly gaped at him for what seemed like a lifetime before she gained her composure and whispered, "I thought you died."

"Well obviously not." Sherlock looked at her and continued, "I've been disbanding Moriarty's Network for three of the past four years, and the final year I had to check up on my homeless network and reintegrate myself into society. Only Mycroft was to know of my where-abouts."

Molly gritted her teeth and practically screamed, "Why, Sherlock? Why? You disappeared in the middle of the night and expected me to just accept it?" She continued her rant waving her hands in his face, "I waited and waited, hoping that you would come walking in here like you own the place. Not one word! NOT ONE WORD! How could you? I gave up, I stopped hoping, and I moved on. And now you think you can come waltzing in here like it was only yesterday that you left. Well let me tell you…" She was interrupted by a commotion behind the morgue doors.

"Miss, you can't go in there! Hey stop hitting me, are you daft?"

A child exclaimed "Let me in you big buffoon!"

A voice with a French accent rose above the others expelling curses that would make a sailor embarrassed. "You let me through abruti! Cette fille est autant toruble comme un âne.

Molly's anger was replaced with shock and recognition as a plump French lady tumbled through the doors while attacking the hospitals security guard with her hand bag. The poor man looked like he'd rather be sitting back in his chair drinking a cuppa.

Sherlock watched in amusement as Molly stormed towards them yelling, "Ms. Agard, leave Tim alone. What are you doing here? Where is…"

A movement by the door caught his eye. A small head covered in dark brown curls peeked around the door. Sherlock squinted and realized he did not know who that was.

Molly managed to calm Ms. Agard down and explained to Tim that she had everything under control and dismissed him. Tim went through the doors creating a big birth between him and the child. Obviously Ms. Agard hadn't been the only attacker. The child glared menacingly at Tim. He scuttled away like a scared crab. The child stayed by the door so Sherlock turned back to Molly and the distraught French lady.

"Lucille, please explain what exactly is going on?"

"I can't do it anymore. Votre fille is crazy, and she's not a normal child. I told you if she mentioned mon poids or my outfits one more time I would hand in my resignation. Well, this is me handing in my resignation! A young child should not be telling a grown woman what to wear; it's unacceptable." Ms. Agard handed Molly her resignation and stormed out of the morgue before Molly could utter a word.

An awkward silence settled over the morgue and it was then that the child called out, "Mummy, can I stay with you until your done work?"

Molly spun around, and for the second time that day she found herself with her mouth wide open and speechless.

Sherlock chose that moment to break the silence, "So, Molly, I see you've not only coloured your hair when I was gone but also managed to keep yourself busy." He smirked and gave her one of his famous winks.

Molly gave him an undecipherable look and said in a cross voice, "Alex honey, please go in my office and wait till I call you."

"But, mummy, I didn't do anything wrong. Lucille was daft and her idea of games were so boring!" Then, as if noticing Sherlock for the first time, the child points and asks, "Who are you?"

Sherlock replied, "The names Sherlock Holmes and I the world's only consulting detective."

Before Alex could ask more, Molly reiterated, "Alex Taylor Hooper, I said go!"

Sherlock noticed that Molly appeared to be more composed of herself, and more confident not the fumbling enamored doctor she was four years ago.

Alex left them, dragging what appeared to be a blanky, and goes into Molly's office slamming the door for good measure.

"No father?" Sherlock tilted his head and tried to deduce her. "You weren't dating anyone when I left. Hmm that Bob fellow kept asking you out for coffee though. Oh please tell me it's not him, he was such a moron. Having his child would signify the end of the world."

Molly's flaming eyes told him he was close, so he went on.

"Aha, I know! A one night stand! You were always such a romantic, but something happened making you change your opinion on the matter. One night stand; quick, easy, no questions asked, and no expectations." He quirked his brows at her and asked, "I'm right, am I not?"

"Sherlock, I am absolutely and utterly infuriated with you right now! I hope this answers your absolutely horrid deduction. After all you have the right to know."

"Know what?" he asked her, actually looking confused.

"I'm surprised you haven't deduced this." She chuckled sadly. "Alex is short for Alexandra…"

"Oh well that's not something worth deducing," he interrupted.

"It is worth deducing when she's your daughter."

* * *

**Hmm what will his reaction be?**

* * *

**Side Note: Thank you mslestat76 for pointing out the french part. **

**So the translation is: **

1\. "You let me through abruti! Cette fille est autant toruble comme un âne. You let me through you fool! This girl is as much trouble as a donkey.

2\. votre fille: your daughter

3\. mon poids: my weight


	2. Brother Mine to the Rescue

**Hi there! Thanks for the reviews and follows. Thank you to Writingwife83 for being an awesome Beta! Once again ****I do not own most of the characters they are Conan Doyle and Mofftis' amazing creations. :D Enjoy!**

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Sherlock smirked, "I'm sorry, what did you say? I was just wondering why the bloody hell would you call your child by a boy's name."

"You, you," Molly sputtered, "You oaf!" She slapped him as hard as she could putting all her anger and pain into it. "Alex…Alexandra is your daughter."

He heard it this time. A confused look covered his pale face with the red mark from Molly's hand. Sherlock dove head first into his mind palace, he sprinted to the door labeled Molly looking in every nook and cranny but there was not a shred of stored information regarding a child, more specifically his child. He stared Molly right in the eyes, "Not possible!"

What Molly didn't notice was that his reply was etched with uncertainty and doubt. As she waited for him to say something else, he spun around and rushed through the morgue doors with his coat billowing behind him.

* * *

Sherlock hailed a taxi, "221B Baker St." He grabbed his mobile and called the only person that could make sense of what just happened. It was picked up before the second ring.

"Hello brother dear, I was expecting you to call, surprised it wasn't sooner though."

"Oh shut up Mycroft! You knew didn't you? All this time and not a word. Like 'hello again brother and by the way Molly's pregnant', or 'you have a daughter!'"

"Sherlock, Moriarty's network was priority. Telling you, would have slowed you down. Plus haven't you said yourself that you can't handle children."

What Sherlock really wanted to tell Mycroft was somewhere deep down he feels something, telling him that he should have been here for Molly, and for his daughter. Is it guilt? If his calculations are correct the child is almost four years old. Sherlock realized he had no idea what to do next. He never expected to have deep feelings for someone let alone become a father. But if he expresses his true feelings it would be a sign of weakness, so instead he grunts, "Hmm, I guess you're right. Have you…"

"Yes Sherlock I have taken care of them. They are being watched by twenty four hour security, I have been providing money for child care because Molly's job barely keeps her going, let alone a child. The only problem is the nanny situation, I have only hired the best but Alex seems to have a knack of scaring them away. Does that remind you of anyone?" He paused and was about to continue when Sherlock demanded.

"Stop giving her money!"

"What! That is my niece and I will not stop supporting her and Molly!"

"No I mean take the money from my savings, stop giving her your money, Alex is…" he almost chocked on the words."…My daughter, I owe Molly at least this much."

"Will do." There was a pause and then Mycroft asked, "How did John react?"

Sherlock replied in a confused tone, "He attacked me like a feral bear. I still have a split lip." The sound of stifled laugh could be heard across the line. "He's engaged you know. Well of course you would know you're practically the British government. His fiancé, Mary, she is..." He paused. "She is fantastic and appears to like me. John has finally found someone who is worth my time...Oh and that god awful mustache…"

The stiffed laugh had grown into a full blown guffaw. "Oh bloody hell! Do grow up Mycroft. It's not that funny!"

"Yes Sherlock, yes, it is funny. I'm trying to imagine the scene of John attacking you, brilliant man! Do you know how many times I wish I could do what he did? But of course mummy would throw a fit if she found out. So instead I'm left to clean up the messes you leave behind."

Sherlock frowned, "Harrumph, well Mummy can...Oh shit!"

"Don't worry I informed her you're back in town and yes she knows about Alex. She's known to Alex as her honorary nan. Do inform me when you finally get the balls to explain that her honorary uncle and nan are actually her biological uncle and nan!"

"Oh bugger off! I have more important problems...like John. I can't work without him!"

Mycroft sighed. "He'll come around. He just needs to process everything."

"He'd better hurry because Gavin has given me a case involving a terrorist cell, but you already know that too."

"Who?"

"Gavin, no um Graham, um Gerry...oh blast it! Lestrade?!"

"Oh you mean Greg."

"Yes of course, get with the program brother mine!" The taxi arrived at Baker St. Sherlock paid and stepped up to the front door.

"I have to go now Sherlock, apparently the queen's corgi got its head stuck in her toilet, and her secretary has informed me that it's a matter of national security. Hmmm those crazy royals."

Sherlock in a moment of weakness gave into a sentimental feeling he couldn't grasp. "Thank you Mycroft…for everything."He ended the call and stomped up the stairs. "Mrs. Hudson I need tea and biscuits, do hurry."

As he walked into his flat a voice yelled up the stairs, "I wasn't your housekeeper four years ago and I'm not your housekeeper now!"

* * *

That night, sleep had once again failed to come; this time it was because of a little girl. Sherlock laid side-ways in his arm chair. A gun dangles from his hand and whenever images of Molly and Alexandra threaten to overtake his mind he shoots a round into the wall. He's not crazy, it's just how he vents. He eyes his violin but can't conjure enough energy to get up and grab it, _Damn it_. _Why did this have to happen?_ He continues to shoot the wall.

He's not a sociopath. That's what he tells people but it's not true. He does it to hide what they believe is a weakness. If people knew they wouldn't treat him the same way. He wouldn't be the world's only consulting detective.

At the age of five Sherlock was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, which lies under the Autism Spectrum. The doctor told Mrs. Holmes that he had a severe case. Sherlock wouldn't do well in school, he would need to be 'trained' on how to live by himself (if he did ever live by himself), and he would never be able to form true relationships.

Mycroft is, and was, Sherlock's arch nemesis, but also his number one supporter. Of course if you were to ask Sherlock about that he would say it weren't true. But without Mycroft (and John) he would not be here at this moment...without them he would be nothing. It was his brother who gave Sherlock the idea to call himself a sociopath.

* * *

It was a cold night and the whole house was quiet. Mycroft tugged his little brother to the living room and sat him down in front a smoldering fire. "I made a list of general characteristics that people with Asperger's have. I can teach you tricks and I have a plan that will help you." He tried to look Sherlock in the eye but Sherlock just looked down at his hands.

He continued, "1. People with Asperger's have a hard time building friendships and relationships, especially as they grow older. 2. They don't do social rules and don't understand body language. That's why you laugh when people are sad. And when Mummy wants to hug you, just pretend you want to even though you hate it. 3. Empathizing with people is very hard for them. 4. They don't like making eye contact." He emphasized the last part, "5. They often excel in subject or hobbies of interest to them but don't do well in things that don't interest them. 6. They don't know how to express their emotions and will often express their negative emotions by yelling or sulking. You sulk a lot so try to find other ways to express yourself."

Sherlock spoke up for the first time, "Like what?"

"I don't know, go to the archery range or dissect frogs" Mycroft finished off the list, "7. When they want to say something they will say it without a filter even if it hurts someone. They believe what they said is the truth. Like when last week you told Minnie the maid that her hair made her look like a poodle. That might be true, but it's not polite to say it out loud."

Sherlock giggled. "At least I told her how to change it. There's a new hairstyle and if she cuts it..."

"No, Sherlock you just can't. Okay?" A clock chimed in the distance. "We have to get to bed now otherwise mummy will notice in the morning and ask what we've been up to."

"Why can't mummy know that you're helping me?"

"Because I'm not supposed to, that's not what big brother's do."

"Oh." Sherlock was kind of confused but he accepted Mycroft's response. As they climbed up the stairs Sherlock's little voice wafted down, "I think you're wrong, Mycroft. Telling the truth is good; mummy says so. She says we should never tell a lie."

* * *

Sherlock shoots his last bullet into the wall and sits up and looks straight at the skull on the mantel. His friend. He remembers when Mycroft came home with it when he was ten. He told Sherlock to use it to learn how to look people in the eye. He loved the skull and would talk to it through all hours of the night, and as time passed he began to actually look at the skull. That's when he began looking people in the eye. It filled him with a sense of pride and excitement. He would stare at people intensely, watching their every action. His mother warned him his staring could be intimidating but, it was so much fun! Since then he hasn't stopped staring and watching people, 'deducing' them as he now calls it.

His troubles are momentarily forgotten pushed aside for tomorrow. Childhood memories assail him. He's swept away and surprisingly he falls asleep, drifting through happy memories, right there in his chair. For once he's not the one staring. Instead the skull stares as sleep gets the better of his trusty companion, Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think. I love feedback. :)**

**Side Note:** In the show, Mycroft is the one who gives Sherlock the terror plot case but thought I'd change it up a bit. ;)

**I want to mention that I believe Sherlock (in the show) has Asperger's and that he's is not a sociopath. John even mentions it to Lestrade in the episode: The Hounds of Baskerville. The way Sherlock behaves and says stuff is very much along the line of Asperger's and no where close to that of a true sociopath. :)**


	3. Where Do I Come From?

**Hi there! Just to let you know I will try posting at least 2 chapters a week now (if not more). Many thanks to WritingWife83 for your encouragement. Enjoy! **

* * *

Molly goes over the day's events in her head, trying to wrap her brain around what happened. _Why did he never contact her? _He was just sitting there looking at his slides as if he hadn't been gone for four years. The worst part was when Alex, _oh that girl infuriated her sometimes_, decided to scare yet another nanny away and then chose to show up right when she wanted to give Sherlock a piece of her mind. She was finally getting her life in order and had accepted the fact that he was never coming back. He literally came in and tore her well-built life right down the middle. _Oh what an idiot, a bloody fool that's what he is! _Well she would show him. Next time she would let him know that he'd better get his act together or she and Alex who have nothing to do with him!

Then Molly remembers what she was doing in the first place so for the moment Sherlock is pushed aside and the report on Lestrade's double murder gets finished.

* * *

She yawns as she closes her laptop and realizes that it's already past eleven.

Molly gets ready for bed, she slips into her fuzzy pajamas, and climbs into her bed. She turns on her little light, turns the main one off and grabs her book. She has almost completed the chapter when a little cry catches her attention.

Alex.

It happens at least once a week, she has no idea why, she's gone to many therapists and they all tell her the same thing. "Sorry we can't help your daughter."

Molly walks quietly into Alex's bedroom. "Alex sweetheart, are you okay?" She knows Alex wont reply. She's still sleeping and only Molly can wake her from the awful night terrors. Molly carefully shakes Alex awake, "How about you sleep with me tonight?" Alex nods sleepily holding a death grip on her blanky. As Molly picks her up, she wraps her small wiry arms around her mother's neck.

That night Molly falls asleep with her daughter snuggled against her chest and hopes that one day she can find a way to make the nightmares all go away.

* * *

_Ah finally a day off_. Molly wakes facing the window, where a mama bird is twittering away at Toby as he watches her baby birds form the window sill. "Toby leave the poor mother alone. You're going to give her a heart attack!"

Molly turns around to her other side to find a pair of piercing blue eyes staring her down. She smiles and attempts to straighten Alex's mop of curls. "Good morning luv, how did you sleep?"

"You already know mummy, I always sleep good when I'm with you." She twirls her blanky around like a lasso and gives Molly a grin that's more gum than teeth (she lost her three front teeth last week when she tried to eat a spoon, don't ask).

They both turn and lay on their backs, staring at a once white ceiling, which is now covered in glitter stars that Alex managed to get up there when one of the nanny's had fallen asleep.

Alex turns serious, "Mummy can I ask you something?

"Hmm depends what it is."

"You have to promise to answer...please promise."

Molly looks at Alex, thinks about it. _She probably wants to know more about the man from the morgue, Sherlock... I'm surprised she hasn't asked earlier. _"Okay one question and I give you one answer, I promise."

"I don't have a dad, so where did I come from?"

Molly was thrown of balance by that question. She knew Alex would eventually ask about her father but why now? She chose her words carefully, "You do have a dad," Alex's eyes brightened. "But he left before you were born. He didn't know about you."

Alex frowned. "Why can't you tell him? Ask him to come home and be my daddy."

"It's not that simple, he is a very complicated man." Hoping to turn the topic away from her meeting her dad, Molly propositioned, "Why don't I tell you what he's like?" Molly thought about it and decided she would tell Alex partial truths.

"Ok."

"I have to do the wash first then we can sit down with a cuppa and we'll talk."

Alex pouted, "No mummy, right now!"

"Alex," Molly warned her daughter.

Alex glared at the ground but got up. She helped her mother make the bed then she went to make her own bed. They had toast with marmalade and Marmite for breakfast. When Molly went to get the laundry basket from the bathroom, Alex insisted that she could do it all by herself. Molly quirked her brow but didn't disagree. She smiled to herself and thought, p_artial truth number one is that you are just as stubborn as your father...maybe even worse._ Molly was waiting in the laundry room when she heard huffing and puffing sounds coming down the hallway. Alex had the basket in front of her and was pushing it with all the strength she had (which wasn't much considering she was skin and bones). "Do you need a little help dear?"

"No, I...*huff*...am...*puff*...fine. It's easy." Molly laughed as she watched her daughter struggling to push it into the laundry room. She managed to drag the laundry basket to the washing machine. It was quite the scene.

_Why was it so heavy though? _Molly's question was answered when she took the lid off the basket and a very angry, plump Toby jumped out. "Aha so I see you've been sleeping in our basket again. Silly cat you."

Alex giggled and waggled her finger, "Sneaky, sneaky kitty."

If cats could glare then that's what Toby was doing as he turned his back to the mother and daughter and stalked out of the room with his tail in the air. Molly picked Alex up and plopped her down on top of the dryer.

She threw a load in and grabbed the dry clothes off the rack.

"Mummy if I help fold the wash can you tell me about my daddy right now?" She asked really nicely and added a cute smile that always won her mother over. Molly raised her eyebrow then smiled.

_Victory! _Alex thought.

"Okay I have a big pile here, so get ready."

Alex looks up expectantly at Molly barely containing her excitement. She's wrapped her blanky around her neck like a scarf and rests her chin on her hands. _She looks so much like him when she does that. _

"Your father is a very smart man. You know how you like to watch people and then you can guess stuff about them?" Alex nodded, "He does the same thing but he helps people instead of when you do it and scare the nanny's away." Molly giggles, she never really liked having a nanny anyways.

"I told you the nanny's where stupid!" Alex is somewhat relieved that her mom isn't too angry and at the same time keeps to herself the fact that she had an operation 'get rid of nanny' plan set up from the day she was first able to start scheming.

Molly chooses to ignore the nanny comment and continues. "He has blue eyes and long fingers just like you." She sighed, "One of my favourite things was when he would play the piano. He's brilliant, and he could make me feel so many emotions in one song. I'd be laughing at the beginning and sobbing at the end." Molly tried to think of more things that she could say without giving everything away. "He lives far away in a palace and when he thinks something is important he saves it in a treasure box."

"Like Buckingham palace?"

"Yes, kind of like Buckingham palace."

"A treasure box?"

"Yes, a really big one with cubbies so that he can divided the information up. "

"Okay." Molly could see the gears grinding in her daughters mind. "Mummy I have to think about stuff, can I go?" Molly nods in amazement. Should a four year old be able to contemplate life like her daughter does? She often forgets that Alex has yet to reach the age of four. She often acts like she's much older.

"Yes you can go, but remember you're going to help me fold."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry." Alex called behind her as she ran off to her room.

* * *

That night after Molly had put Alex to bed, she stood in the door way and watched contentedly as her daughter fell asleep. A streetlight cast a glow along the bottom of her bed and just as Molly turned to leave the room she noticed something shinny. She tip-toed to the bed and knelt down. Reaching underneath she managed to snag the object. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw what it was.

Alex had taken a shoe box and covered it in her glitter star stickers and on it was written T-r-e-s-u-r B-o-k-s. A tear escaped as Molly lifted the lid. She gasped...This was the shoe box that she'd had kept all the newspaper clippings about Sherlock in. Alex couldn't read enough to be able to read the articles, so she must have ignored them when she added her own memories to the box. Alongside the Sherlock articles there was a picture of Molly and Alex when she was only a day old. There was an old robin's egg, a letter from her honorary Nan (Sherlocks mum), a drawing of a two big stick figures and a little stick figure in a palace, and of course a little container with glitter stars. Molly's heart broke into pieces and if her daughter wasn't sleeping right there she would have started crying for all that could have been. Instead she remained calm and put the box back under the bed with the articles. It would be a while before Alex could read them so for now they could stay there.

Molly rushed to her room and threw herself onto the bed. She wrapped a pillow around her head to muffle the sounds of her sobs. She'd lost count of how many times she'd cried herself to sleep because of Sherlock, and she realized that this probably won't be the last.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think so far. Feel free to PM me or review I will reply. **


	4. A text from Mary

**Hey everyone. Mary has entered the building. ;) Thanks to WritingWife83 and my lovely friends for the advice. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock had been texting with Mary almost every day since his return. It was his way of staying connected with John. John had yet to forgive him. So in the meantime he kept himself busy with the terror threat on London and Mary's texts.

*ping*

_Mary: John shaved that god awful mustache!_

_Sherlock: Fantastic! _

*ping* *ping*

_Mary: He did it for you, he just doesn't realize it yet._

_Mary: Wait a couple more weeks, he'll come around._

_Sherlock: When he does come, tell him to bring milk...I'm out_

*ping*

_Mary: Lazy much :) B__y the way have you heard more from Molly?_

_Sherlock: I told you already the last time I saw her or Alex was 2 weeks ago. No I haven't heard anything_

*ping*

_Mary: you should call her_

_Sherlock: NO!_

*ping* *ping* *ping*

_Mary: you can't keep ignoring the elephant in the room_

_Marry: Alex is going to find out you're her father_

_Mary: she deduces people just like YOU_

_Sherlock: I'll make sure she won't find out_

_Sherlock: I'm not a father_

Mary sighed. This is the same conversation they have every day. She had to do something; come up with a plan to make him realize that he could be a father. The one time she talked to Sherlock in person she realized that he was not a man without feelings. He just needed to be taught how to express them.

* * *

She came up with a plan and set it in motion that afternoon when she sent a small package by express to 221B Baker St.

*ping*

_Mary: I sent you something_

_Sherlock: what could you possibly have to send to me? You barely know me, we aren't friends and your fiancé wants to murder me_

*ping*

_Mary: I consider you a friend. When it comes promise me you'll look it over, if not for me than for John _

_Sherlock: :(_

*ping**ping*

_Mary: Alex is here right now_

_Mary: Molly hasn't found a new nanny yet so she comes over whenever Molly's can't take her to the morgue._

_Sherlock: not my problem_

*ping**ping*

_Mary: You're an oaf _

_Mary: Sherlock?_

On that note Sherlock stopped texting and attempted to deduce what she had sent him but instead his mind kept wandering. He felt...was it hurt? He had no idea what he was feeling, maybe lost…yes he was definitely feeling lost! Then he thought back to what Mycroft taught him about social rules. Fathers are responsible for their children. _DAMN!_ His head felt like it would explode any second, he turned his back to all the absurd feelings and grabbed his violin.

* * *

Sherlock was playing Mozart's Requiem in D Minor and would not have heard the post man if Mrs. Hudson hadn't come up to tell him. He came back to reality and went downstairs. He signed for the package and almost instantly knew it was a book.

He sat in his chair, glancing wistfully at the empty one across from him, hoping John would forgive him soon.

As he unwrapped the book a note slide out.

**_Sherlock_**

**_Please read the whole book and then tell me again why you don't want Alex to know about you. _**

**_Mary xxx_**

The rest of the wrapping paper slipped off to reveal a parenting book for new dads, Father for Life: A journey of Joy, Challenge, and Change.

_Oh bullocks! Was Mary trying to kill him!_

He threw the book into the corner of the room and went into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa.

* * *

That evening Mrs. Hudson came up to start a fire, while he was organizing a room in his mind palace labelled, _all the things I hate about Mycroft_. Mrs. Hudson puttered around the apartment tidying up. Every so often she'd tut at the piles of mess that Sherlock had left lying about. She found the parenting book in the corner and looked over at the zoned out man in front of the fire. She sighed, "Oh Sherlock what am I ever going to do with you?" She walked across the room and placed her hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock dear, is this yours?"

He was either choosing to ignore her or was too busy in his mind palace to take notice. So she placed the parenting book on the arm rest of his chair and left Sherlock sitting in front of the crackling logs lost in a vortex of information.

The fire slowly died down and was reduced to glowing coals. Sherlock heard the clock chime twelve. Like the past nights he didn't feel tired so he got up and started pacing in front of his evidence wall. A map of London hung on the wall dotted with possible terror suspects. His gears spun as he tried to go through all possible scenarios. He almost, almost, had something when he flashed his eyes open for one second...in that one second the parenting book caught his attention and he lost his train of thought. _Shit!_

Now he had to read it, otherwise it would never leave his system and he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the imminent terror attack.

* * *

Sherlock finished the whole book, cover to cover by the time the early morning light began to shine through his windows. He was…speechless.

All the things he had missed and the things he didn't teach his daughter. Like who was there for Molly when she went for her ultrasounds or gave birth, who held her hand? The book says he should have held it and been the first person to hold his daughter. He tried to imagine the scenes but they are hazy and confusing. Having never experienced anything like this before made it very difficult. At the moment facing Moriarty seemed like a piece of cake compared to this…what do they call it? Fathering.

This needed to change, he didn't really understand human nature but he would read more books and get Mary to teach him. He needed to be there for his daughter. He would prove to Molly that he could be a part of Alex's life.

A smile flitted across his face at the thought that passed. _If she's as good at deductions as he is what would it be like if he took her to a crime scene?_ Oh they could kick Andersons arse right across the UK.

* * *

After Mrs. Hudson brought up some tea and biscuits he got dressed and with his new found excitement sent a text off to Mary.

_Sherlock: Read it, going to Molly_

Mary was having breakfast with John when she got the message. "Who is it?" John asked.

"Oh just a friend. You could say I helped them see the light." She winks and walks over to the kitchen humming, 'That's the way I like it.'

What Mary didn't know is that there were now two plans in action. The one she had set up and another that Sherlock had devised.

Sherlock knew it was the craziest plan he had ever come up with and for it to work he needed John and his homeless network.


	5. The One Where It All Started

**How does Sherlock handle his "death"? Read on and you shall see... :) Thnx to my Beta WritingWife83. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock took a deep breath as he stepped out of the cab. The famous London fog was beginning to lift as though it was a sign. His plan is amazing. It will change everything, hopefully for the better. Though as he walked up to the front entrance of St. Bart's his confidence in his plan and himself slowly began to fade.

He walked down the halls of St. Bart's with a hesitant gate. Maybe this was a mistake. He should wait. It would be an inconvenience for him if Molly was still mad, she would not want to listen to him.

He stopped in front of the morgue, paused, and while in the process of doing an abrupt u-turn the reason he came there for in the first place walked right into him.

"Sherlock! You startled me."

"Um hullo, Molly." He glanced around nervously. "Still mad?"

"Sherlock, why are you here?" she asked curiously, and to his surprise she didn't appear to be angry.

_Quick! Come up with something, I don't have the nerve to talk to her about Alex. So come on! What's my reason for being there? Come on bugger think!_

"Molly I was wondering." He paused and then the most brilliant idea came to him. "Would you help me solve crimes?"

"What?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"You heard me; solve crimes. You see, John has made himself unavailable and I need a partner."

She angled her head and scrunched her nose. She made it appear to him that she had to think about it but the moment he had asked that she had her answer. "Okay."

"Magnificent! Let's go." He turned to go.

"Sherlock! Are you daft I can't just up and leave. I do have some reports to finish. How bout I come over tomorrow?"

Sherlock looked like a child when its mom has just told it that it has to save it Halloween candy and can only have one a day. "Hmmm…well then, see you tomorrow." And off he went feeling very proud, but as he got into the cab he realized that he shouldn't be proud because he still hadn't come up with a solution regarding his daughter. Funny, actually, why was Molly so calm? She hadn't even mentioned Alex.

* * *

*ping*

Molly: He came just like you said he would

Mary: I told you my plan would work ;)

*ping*

Molly: Umm…well about that. He didn't mention Alex. Actually he asked me to take over for John and help him solve crimes

Mary: What?! That man…

Mary: hahaha he chickened, that's what he did. He was going to you about Alex, but he freaked. Why does that not surprise me?

*ping*

Molly: Sherlock? Scared? I don't think so, he's incapable of feeling emotions

Mary: Are you sure about that?

* * *

The next day Molly arrived at 221B feeling more like herself than she had in years. Perhaps it was the excitement of working with Sherlock again or...actually there was no or. It was the joy of seeing him alive and knowing that her daughter might one day know her father.

She climbed the stairs and before she had time to knock Sherlock called out, "come in, Molly."

She walks through the door, and memories assail her the moment she steps over the threshold. She begins to fumble with her jumper. _Oh blast it! I thought I figured out how to control myself. Apparently not!_

Sherlock looks her over. He notices that Molly's confidence is faltering. He had assumed that she had changed but it's all a cover. She is still his mousy timid pathologist.

Not that he minds.

"We have to meet Lestrade, he has a minor case, and then we'll be off to visit a client of mine." He grabs his coat, deftly wraps his scarf around his neck and says, "Come along Molly we can't keep the inspector waiting!"

She can't help it. She's rooted in place and her mouth won't stop gaping. _Bloody hell!_ Will she ever get used to him?

* * *

With Molly's help Lestrade's case of the fake ripper was over and done before tea time. Their next stop was a client that worked in the London tube system.

As they walked to the clients apartment Molly finally asked a non-case related question. "Sherlock, do you want Alex to know that you're her father?"

He waited so long to reply that Molly thought he wouldn't even answer. "I never thought I'd be a father. I don't think I'm capable, never will be. But a friend helped me realize that no one is ever fully prepared to be a father. So if you are okay with it I would like to be Alex's father. Umm I think...umm...take her out for ice cream?" He scrunched his nose. "At least I think that's what fathers do."

Molly giggled."Oh Sherlock thank you. It means a lot, and yes fathers do take their kids for ice cream."

"If you could let me tell her on my own time that would be best. I need some more time to collect more information regarding the topic of fathering."

"Okay." Molly smiles, the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle. She grabs his hand and pulls him through a gate. She winks as she says "Come on we can't keep our client waiting."

The instant Molly grabs his hand Sherlock knows it was a mistake. A tidal wave of emotions floods over him and they flash him back to the last time they held hands.

* * *

It's been a month since the real suicide of Moriarty and the fake suicide of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock is antsy, Molly's flat is getting awfully boring and the anticipation of taking down Moriarty's network is exciting him. He practically lives in his pajamas. He's done everything from rearranging the bookshelves, to filling the fridge with body parts and he even categorized Molly's sock and underwear drawer. She wasn't too happy about that. He did her a favour, why did she have to get so mad at him?

Molly had been amazing. He didn't tell her; maybe he should but it wasn't like him to do so. She had helped him fake his death and when he needed to hide away she had offered her flat.

They got into a daily routine, Molly would get ready for work, Sherlock would make her a cuppa, she would show him the new body parts she brought in the night before and then she would leave for work. When she came home, she would tell him about the cases that came in. They would fight about dinner, often giving up and calling for takeout, and then they would sit on her sofa and watch Greys Anatomy. Watching shows with Sherlock was never peaceful; he commented, yelled, cursed and some nights he actually threw his food at the telly! Molly wanted to say that she hated it but actually she was enjoying it. She loved having company, having someone to talk to, more specifically Sherlock. Sometimes she forgot that it would all be over just like that. That his living there wasn't permanent.

* * *

One day, Sherlock was getting very desperate. He was bored out of his mind! So much so that he wanted to run out onto the street and declare himself alive. He eyed the bookshelves seeing if he might have missed a book and he landed on one, at the very bottom of a shelf. _Astronomy 101. Hmm, the title alone is why I haven't read it yet. _But being so desperate he grabbed the book and jumped onto the sofa.

It was lunch time when he finished it. If he could describe it in one word? BORING! _Well that was the most inconvenient information yet. It's not staying in my mind palace for more than 2 days. _

He was trying to come up with something else to do when he saw a big cardboard box.

By the time Molly came home her living room was literally littered with thousands of stars and planets. Sherlock had cut out planet and star shapes and was using what appeared to be…, "Sherlock is that my nail polish?"

He looked at her guiltily from his perch on the floor. "Maybe…" He tries to charm her with his smile, "It's for a good cause, the cause of helping Sherlock get unbored!"

She breathed in deeply then asked, "And what are you going to do with all these stars and planets?"

"Dunno. Make mobiles? I could sell them on Ebay," he said jokingly.

"That's not funny!" Her eyes became watery and then Molly burst into tears and ran to her room.

What had he done wrong? He replayed the scene in his head but from what he remembers he didn't insult her. He decides to wait a little longer to see if she will come out. When she doesn't appear after an hour, he gets up and throws all the astronomy stuff into a box and shoves it under the sofa. He shuffles to her room and knock carefully on the door. "Molly, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry!"

Then he goes off on a tangent. "Don't be silly. Crying isn't going to solve whatever problem you have. Plus I know I didn't say anything wrong so you don't have a right to cry. Also crying is going to make your eyes puffy and red which will make you look like a prairie pheasant. Your date tonight will not in the least bit be pleased with that, you definitely won't be going on a second date!

The sound of glass breaking floats from under the door. "Shut up and go away!"

He became more determined, "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong! Stop throwing things it won't help." He thinks to himself, _Trust me I've tried..._

He waits. When she doesn't reply, he slumps down and sits in front of the door, "I mean it Molly! I'm staying here until you say something."

He almost loses his balance when her door swings open.

His heart breaks when he sees the tears streaming down her face. "You really want to know what wrong? You! That's what wrong. You're leaving soon. I can feel it and you..." She shudders and takes a deep breath. "You don't seem to give a sod about what's been going on for the last month. You live here and act like it's your flat, you're incorrigible, frustrating, you grate on my nerves...you're...you're a FOOL, and... you throw food at my telly!"

"So shouldn't you be happy that I'm leaving?" Sherlock was a little confused.

"NO! You want to know why? You made me like you! I helped you and I gave everything up for you and now you've made me fall in love and it breaking me to pieces. It's. Breaking. Me. Because I know that you will never love me the way I do you." She lets out a gut-wrenching sob.

Sherlock feels horrible; so many feelings that he can't describe. He is capable of feelings, he just doesn't always know what the feelings are. So instead of wasting precious time he just tells people that he doesn't do sentiment.

He knows one thing for sure, this sentiment has been building up for a long time now and he needs to show her before it's too late. He pulls Molly towards him and envelops her against his chest. She tries to push him away but he holds her tighter until she relaxes in his arms. He rests his chin on her head and whispers into her hair, "Please don't cry. I'm not leaving, shhh." Her sobs turn into sniffles.

That's when one of the unknown feelings start sending all sorts of messages to his brain. All of a sudden he wants to kiss Molly Hooper. The world seems to stop and he feels like he's in slow motion. His heart seems to be pounding in his chest and his pupils are dilated. His hold on her loosens as he slowly, hesitantly, slides his arms up her back. She tilts her head looking up at him in confusion. He takes that moment to gently cradle her face in his hands. He slides his callused thumb across her lower lip, her eyes widen with realization. Then he comes in close, so close that their lips are touching and he whispers against them, "Am I really incapable of love?"

Then he crushes her to him. It's somewhat awkward at first, slightly amusing, with Sherlock being rather inexperienced. Sherlock always prided himself on being level headed, but once he kissed Molly he felt himself being pulled into the deep unknown.

Sherlock paused when he remembered that Molly had a date tonight. "Your date..."

She groaned, "Oh Sherlock do shut up! I don't care about..." And before she could finish he once again pulled her close and continued to snog her senseless.

What happened next was something that Sherlock had locked away with the purpose of never having to think about again. It had made him run...turning his back on the one person who had made him feel like a true human being.

* * *

"Sherlock? Hullo are you there?"

He snapped out of the flashback to find Molly and his client looking at him expectantly.


End file.
